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Updated: July 13, 2025
Partingley that he and the other man, Dellingham, spent the evening together?" said Bryce. "So we did but that was not quite so," replied Mitchington. "Braden went out of the Mitre just before nine o'clock and he didn't return until a few minutes after eleven. Now, then, where did he go?"
It was possible that he might be able to tell something of moment he might, after all, know something of this apparently mysterious stranger, who, for anything that Mrs. Partingley or anybody else could say to the contrary, might have had an appointment and business with him. But his Grace knew nothing. He had never heard the name of John Braden in his life so far as he remembered.
And he walked over the way with the inspector, to the quaint old-world inn which filled almost one side of the little square known as Monday Market, and in at the courtyard, where, looking out of the bow window which had served as an outer bar in the coaching days, they found the landlady of the Mitre, Mrs. Partingley. Bryce saw at once that she had heard the news. "What's this, Mr.
John Braden, London. And that's the tall one's Mr. Christopher Dellingham also London. Tourists, of course we've never seen either of them before." "Came together, you say, Mrs. Partingley?" asked Mitchington. "When was that, now?" "Just before dinner, last night," answered the landlady. "They'd evidently come in by the London train that gets in at six-forty, as you know.
Braden, he hung about a bit, studying a local directory I'd lent him, and after a while he asked me if he could hire a trap to take him out to Saxonsteade this afternoon. Of course, I said he could, and he arranged for it to be ready at two-thirty. Then he went out, and across the market towards the Cathedral. And that," concluded Mrs. Partingley, "is about all I know, gentlemen."
Have you got his name and the other gentleman's?" Mrs. Partingley uttered another exclamation of distress and astonishment, lifting her plump hands in horror. But her business faculties remained alive, and she made haste to produce a big visitors' book and to spread it open before her callers. "There it is!" she said, pointing to the two last entries. "That's the short gentleman's name Mr.
"Bless me!" he said. "Remarkable! But he'd a suit-case, or something of the sort something light which he carried up from the railway station himself. Perhaps in that " "I should like to see whatever he had," said Mitchington. "We'd better examine his room, Mrs. Partingley." Bryce presently followed the landlady and the inspector upstairs Mr. Dellingham followed him.
"He didn't tell you his business with the Duke?" asked Mitchington. "Not a word!" said the landlady. "Oh, no! just that, and no more. But here's Mr. Dellingham." Bryce turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered, bearded man pass the window the door opened and he walked in, to glance inquisitively at the inspector. He turned at once to Mrs. Partingley.
The evidence given in the first stages of the inquiry was all known to Bryce, and to most people in the court, already. Mr. Dellingham told how he had met the dead man in the train, journeying from London to Wrychester. Mrs. Partingley told how he had arrived at the Mitre, registered in her book as Mr.
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